


Speak to Me

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Gen, deaf!yoongi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6467812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yoongi avoided sign language for as long as he could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak to Me

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i am not deaf. no one close to me (anymore) is deaf. this is purely dream material; sensori-neural hearing loss almost never results in 100% deafness, but this is fantasy. i'm not trying to be insensitive D:

Yoongi fought sign language for as long as he could.

God, he hated it, hated speaking with his hands when he'd never been the type to gesticulate, never pulled his hands from the front pocket of his hoody or his jeans. He hated having to look at people's face to understand what they were saying and he _loathed_ having to press his ear to a speaker to feel the beat of the music he used to write rhymes for.

God.

He hated it.

More often than not he skipped classes and get togethers and refused to pay attention to the flashing light in his bedroom that acted as a warning for someone knocking on the door. Hated the laser pointer his brother had gotten to get his attention across the room when he wanted to show him something on his tablet. He hated that he couldn't hear the sounds of his favorite Vines, even though he could recall them perfectly, just like Taehyung's voice.

Taehyung's voice.

God.

_God._

Yoongi fought sign language until Taehyung sat beside him one dismal afternoon and carefully spelled out, _are you never going to talk to me again?_

It took a few minutes. Yoongi didn't understand. He wouldn't look up. But Taehyung's hands were insistent, speaking to him, and Yoongi bared his teeth, ready to leave, to walk away from his best friend and drive himself off the nearest pier even if it meant going all the way to fucking _Busan_ because if he couldn't hear the goddamned ocean he could at least feel it crushing him to death.

But Taehyung's hands took his hands and Yoongi almost pulled away. He tightened up and looked up and Taehyung. Kim Taehyung, his best friend, was crying.

Yoongi couldn't hear him.

Kim Taehyung was crying and Min Yoongi let out a horrible choking sound he couldn't hear, reaching out to grab Taehyung and drag him close. “I'm sorry,” he gasped out, feeling his eyes water and hating himself for it. He'd made Taehyung cry. He had no right to be so upset. He had no idea how loud his voice was, couldn't tell, didn't care. “I'm sorry, Taehyungah, I can't—I can't _hear you._ ”

He said it like Taehyung didn't know. Like Taehyung hadn't been there when Yoongi had woken up from his terrible fever, the one that nearly killed him, to a world with no sound and no way to fix it. Like Taehyung hadn't been there to witness Yoongi ripping his room apart, breaking glass and screaming as though if he was just a little louder, he might hear an echo of himself. Like he hadn't been the one to pick the pieces of glass out of Yoongi's ruined hands when no one else wanted to deal with him.

He said it like Taehyung hadn't been there to listen to him sob when the realization set in, _I'll never hear you sing again._ Like Taehyung hadn't been there when Yoongi woke up in the hospital after swallowing all the painkillers in his house with half a bottle of gin as a chaser and Yoongi had finally finally finally cried, wept himself to sleep to the memory of Taehyung singing Owl City and laughing under his breath.

Yoongi fought sign language until Taehyung offered it to him, not moving his mouth when he spoke to him, because in a world with no sound it didn't matter if he used his voice. He learned the alphabet. He went to sign classes, because if he couldn't hear his best friend talk, he should learn to watch him talk, he should learn to listen to his hands. Taehyung went with him, most nights.

Sometimes, Taehyung would sing into Yoongi's ear and he could feel the vibration, could almost imagine he knew what Taehyung was singing. Could put a memory to the melody, the rhythm and bass.

When Yoongi woke up in the middle of the night in panic, it was the heave of Taehyung's chest that reminded him he was alive, okay, nothing was wrong. He was deaf now. But Taehyung was there, breathing against him, and he had no reason to be afraid.

 _Yoongi,_ Taehyung said one afternoon, the two of them sitting in a cafe Yoongi used to frequent because he liked the scones. The sign for his name, the one Taehyung had made up, was an elegant shift of his huge fingers, and Yoongi glanced up to look at his face. _Yoongi. I think we should date._

_You know I love you, don't you?_

_You know._

_I do._

Yoongi reached out one hand and watched Taehyung's engulf his. He gripped their fingers together and squeezed, lifted his left hand, _I love you,_ and smiled in the silence as he recalled the sound of Taehyung laughing, matched it to the way he was laughing then, bending forward, blushed and pressing one hand over his mouth.

It wasn't as good as being able to hear it would be. But he reached to tangle their _I love yous_ together and kissed the words, rested his forehead against Taehyung's cheek and folded their arms against his own chest to feel those words against his heartbeat.

 


End file.
